


Little White Lies (they don't hurt none)

by staranon



Category: Funhaus (Video Blogging RPF), Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, FakeHaus, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, but like the non porny kind lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 15:04:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15665643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staranon/pseuds/staranon
Summary: Adam doesn't scream omega at anyone. Too big, too rough, too assertive. So eventually he stopped correcting everyone and continued to live the lie of being seen as an alphaUntil a situation forces him to expose himself and he's left wondering-Would anyone want an omega like him?





	Little White Lies (they don't hurt none)

**Author's Note:**

> so one day i received an ask on tumblr wondering if i'd do an abo shiphaus story.
> 
> i said yes so now you've got this one shot with too much exposition but a whole lot of stuff
> 
> special thanks to @greyskyflowers on tumblr for spurring this on

Gunhaus is made up of four alphas and two betas. Bruce, a beta, is their head. He has the rationality of a beta to keep everyone on track and driven. James and Lawrence often work as a pair of domineering alphas both with the physical and technical skills to get shit done. Elyse is often on her own as a beta. She blends into a crowd real well, can pull on a character like nothing else. She’s their con man. And then there’s Adam and Matt—two alphas that provide the covering fire, the eyes in the sky perspective to provide everyone else with the intel they need.

Now, you wouldn’t know it from looking at him, but Matt is certainly an alpha. Despite his small size and soft spoken words, it’s actually because he’s an alpha that he can command a room despite how quiet he is. His words matter no matter how few of them there are. But it’s a gimmick that works for them all. Everyone else underestimates until he gets under their guard and, well, that’ll be a hefty hospital bill if they can get themselves there in time.

Four alphas and two betas. Well, actually. Three alphas, two betas, and one omega in hiding.

See Adam here—all broad shoulders, rough hands, and hard set face—is an omega. None of them know. He’s never told them. When he got into this life as a hired hand, he knew divulging his status as an omega would be a sure-fire job killer. Crews in Los Santos don’t hire omegas. They’re small, omegas. They’re dainty and non-confrontational. They’re quiet.  _Submissive_.

Usually that’s the stereotypes of omegas in television.

While omegas are usually smaller in statue, they’re the emotional supports in the relationship. They’re more sympathetic and empathetic to the needs of everyone around them.

It became clear to Adam as he grew older, that no one wanted omegas like him. He was the wrong type of omega.

_Who could love a freak like you?_

People don’t love omegas who can easily overpower them.

_You kidding me? I pegged you for an alpha._

People don’t love omegas that pack on muscle like it’s nothing.

_Nah, man. Omegas are too needy. You’re just not my type._

People don’t love omegas that look so uncomfortable in their own bodies. Like they know they don’t belong and are trying to compensate but can’t.

Essentially, they love everything that isn’t Adam.

So when people assumed he was an alpha when he first started working for Gunhaus, Adam never bothered correcting them because he didn’t think he’d have a shot with them otherwise.

Now, Gunhaus operates on a pack mentality. A little bit traditional in this day and age, but it works for them. Bruce, he’s the pack leader. Everyone defers to him despite being a beta. Next are James and Lawrence as all around muscle and defence. Then Elyse, mediating in the middle, with Adam and Matt together to fill whatever role they can. It’s not a rigid hierarchy, but they still have clear-cut roles, and this only serves to make them stronger with each other. So what if James and Elyse are already married and pull in Lawrence for the fun of it? Matt and Bruce have something on the side, but Adam knows everything he sees is flexible. He’s spent the night at Bruce’s back a few times, and it’s good what they have. Adam just doesn’t want his own status to ruin everything he has here.

He likes it when James kisses him hard after a successful heist, still running off of that alpha adrenaline that bruises Adam’s lips and makes him weak in the knees. He loves it when he’s sat with Lawrence on the couch, waiting until he falls asleep because he’s too keyed up for the day, likes sitting there with his head on Lawrence’s shoulder, or in his lap, giving Lawrence something to do with his hands as he runs them through Adam’s hair.

No one ever makes a comment of how Adam just seems to lean into their touch, how he’s always tilting his head just to the side for them to come in close. He’s simply respecting them and their position in the crew. Matt does the same thing. It’s not because he’s omega. It’s _not._

He has heats three times a year. It’s just another word for how his body is producing excess hormones, leaving him feeling feverish, tired, and horny on occasion. He feigns excuses of illness during those times, or says he needs a breather and takes some time off, hides away in his apartment, curled up into a nest of blankets in his bedroom, trying not to feel like he’s so alone.

Omegas are usually meant to settle down with others. Usually alphas but sometimes betas, whether romantically or platonically so that they have someone there to keep an eye on them while they’re in heat. Heats are meant to give omegas a break from shouldering all the emotional responsibilities of a relationship so that their partners, their pack, can give back to them. But Adam doesn’t have that because no one knows he’s an omega, so he shoulders everything. All the time until his body says it’s time to take a break, so he builds up a nest and sweats it out until it’s time to get back to work.

He’s lonely, but it’s better than having someone laugh in his face because he doesn’t fit the mold of an omega. It’s good until it’s not.

* * *

James startles him one day while Adam’s sat a table, pouring over schematics and just can’t seem to get his thoughts together. He’s been off for a few days now, and he’s not quite sure why. Maybe he hasn’t been sleeping as well as he’d thought, but as soon as James sets a hand on the back of his neck, Adam feels himself settling. He feels grounded.

“You okay, Adam?” he asks. His voice is soft, and Adam feels he could just lean right into him, but catches himself before he does.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Just getting lost in these stupid schematics.”

James sits down next to him and pulls the schematics closer to him. “I can take a look for you if you want to go crash for ten minutes.”

Adam stubbornly shakes his head. “I can do it.”

“Yeah, but I can help you. Make it a bit easier.” And then he winks at Adam, and Adam just wants to roll over and let James do whatever he wants.

James helps him through the process of the schematics, makes it easier on him and his apparently sluggish mind to get through all the grunt work.

Then when they’re done, James beckons Adam to stand with him, and then he’s guiding Adam’s head down to his shoulder so Adam can rest against him. It’s something alphas do, that Adam has seen the other three do from time to time. It’s to make other alphas give up for just a moment. Let someone else shoulder them so they can relax a little. It’s a sign of respect and comfort and an admittance that alphas need self-care just as much as betas and omegas do. While Adam’s sure it doesn’t do the same thing for him as it does for Lawrence and Matt, he’d like nothing more than to just pull James on top of him and let his weight suffocate him. But he can’t. So he lets himself be content with this form of care even though it does very little for him.

“You good?” James asks, squeezing the back of Adam’s neck roughly.

Adam hums. “I’m good.”

So they step apart. It has to be good enough for Adam because that’s all he’s going to get.

* * *

With Lawrence, Adam feels secure in letting his act drop a bit without compromising his status. Alphas are supposed to be assertive, brash. They often say what they’re thinking without putting a second thought to it. They inhabit large spaces, filling it up with their mere presence. But they’re also good at sensing when omegas are in need.

Now omegas—they like smaller spaces. They like being wrapped up in layers, especially if those layers carry the scent of their mates. They like the quiet. They like the serenity of just being with someone they consider a mate. They like scenting. And scenting is a very omega-type action. It’s where you press your face into the crook of an alphas neck and just breathe in the essence of them. It’s soothing, and maybe Adam likes to give into this part of himself just a little.

And maybe Lawrence likes to indulge in Adam this behaviour. Maybe he thinks it’s just one of Adam’s quirks, that he likes to be held close for a little while after they have sex despite the sticky Los Santos heat.

When they’re done, they pull away, lie on different sides of the bed.

Adam can feel Lawrence looking at him. He’s too tired and too content to do much else towards him.

“Where do you go in that head of yours?” Lawrence asks.

“Hm?” Adam turns his head to face Lawrence, but he’s about ready to just drop off and sleep for the rest of the night. He’d like nothing more than to curl around Lawrence, head on his chest, legs entwined, but alphas aren’t like that. Not with each other, so Adam keeps his distance.

“You always get so spacey,” Lawrence says, and if Adam were less boneless, he’d think that Lawrence was starting to catch on to how he acted—that he’s not enough alpha.

“Lawrence,” Adam says with as much energy as he can muster. “I’m a criminal in a gang with outstanding warrants and bounties on my head. Forgive me if I have other things on my mind.”

Lawrence shoves his shoulder. “Ass,” he mutters fondly. “You know what I mean.”

All Adam can do is offer him a shrug. “Just exhausted. This heist is a bit bigger than our old ones. Just a lot more to do.”

“If you’re sure that’s all,” Lawrence says.

“It is.”

Alphas aren’t all that physically affectionate with each other. It’s something Adam wishes he could do with either James or Lawrence. He wants to curl up behind Lawrence. He wants to press himself into the curve of his body and be held. But then he’d just be some clingy omega, and really, who wants that? Would they even still want him if they knew? Would the crew still want him?

It’s a hard line he walks, so the next morning he refrains himself from pressing his face up against the back of Lawrence’s neck as he stands in front of the stove. He goes to sit at the table instead.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” Lawrence asks.

“You,” he says and sees Lawrence smirk.

“You’re such a flirt.”

“Yeah, and you like it.”

Lawrence serves them up food for the morning and sits down next to him. The space between them feels more like a canyon today, and Adam then realizes his heat is coming up. That would explain a lot actually.

He smiles at Lawrence in thank for the food and tries to stomach it. Next week is going to be a bit difficult.

* * *

His heat hits him at night. He’s on the couch watching mindless Netflix when a sudden wave of vertigo comes over him. There’s a pull in his gut and he’s groaning, squirming on the couch at the sudden discomfort. It lasts only a short while until he starts to become feverish. Until that heat comes to him and he feels so trapped in his body and he wants something he can’t name.

He drags himself to the bathroom, half sick and damp from the sweat, sets a foot into the bathtub followed by the rest of them. He fumbles with the taps until the shower head comes on and douses Adam in lukewarm water, clothes and all.

He hates this, truly. He hates this feeling, like there’s a hole in his chest and he doesn’t know how to fill it. Well, he does, but that comes with admitting he’s an omega to those closest to him. He’s not prepared for that. Neither are they.

After cooling off as much as he could and pulling off his sodden clothing and walking straight for the bed. The blankets and pillows are still gathered up in a nest formation. He curls up into the indentation left behind from hours before and tries to get as comfortable as he can. With one pillow between his legs and another held against his chest, he burrows himself in for the long night ahead of him.

He dreads his heats. They’re completely draining—near torturous on his own. It’s his body telling him to focus on himself and not the others around him. But it’s supposed to come with a balance. Someone needs to be here for him. But he has none.

He doesn’t sleep, not really, only drifts in and out until a new stage of nausea comes over him. He wakes fully around two in the morning, the streetlights streaming in through his window. There’s a low rumble in his chest. He’s purring again, a self-soothing tactic of omegas. The gentle vibration and the dulcet tones are meant to be calming, soothing. He remembers when he was a child, still young and soft that he’d do it in his room at night when he was alone. When he realized his family wasn’t like the other kids at school. When he didn’t get the care and coddling from his parents. Even before he presented, even before he truly knew what he was, he’d purr. Something soft, something gentle to carry him into the night. He learned to curb it when he was older, as a teenager and then young adult. But when he secreted himself away for his heats, he’d purr.

His heats are three days every four months. He keeps track of the days on his phone, makes sure he knows when he needs to back out and make his escape.

He just wishes he had someone to whether this experience with.

* * *

When his fever breaks and he doesn’t feel as … needy, he takes the world’s longest shower, water steaming hot, cleans him of the sweat and grime, and sets out for his day. He convenes with the rest of the crew late morning, doesn’t expect James to come up behind him and wrap him up tight.

“Three days is far too long,” James says and Adam laughs, tries to shove him off.

“You make it sound like I died and came back to life.”

“Maybe you did. Maybe you’re the next Jesus.”

Adam rolls his eyes fondly and lets James hold him for a while. He presses his face against Adam’s neck and Adam tries not to feel like he’s swooning, like he’s already falling for James. It’s a typical alpha move. Pressing into somebody’s space after they’ve been gone a long time. Staking their claim as it were. It makes Adam feel like he’s whole again.

Lawrence is a little less intimate but no less gratifying into showing Adam how much he’s been missed. He comes to Adam with a gift. A new watch. “Because I know the one you have now sucks.” And then he’s pushing it across the table to Adam, and Adam opens his gift. The watch is beautifully black and gray. Carbon and platinum all mixed together. A heavy solid weight on Adam’s wrist like a mark.

_You’re mine._

But that’s not what this is. This is Lawrence showing how he cares for him. It’s a gift.

“Thank you,” Adam says. He’s having trouble finding the words to express his gratitude. Lawrence didn’t have to buy this for him. He was only gone for three days, but it makes him feel integral to the crew. Like he was  _that missed_.

Later in the day, Adam gets Lawrence alone, presses a kiss to his cheek and then to his lips, murmuring a sweet ‘thank you.’

“Looks good on you,” Lawrence remarks, and Adam agrees. It does. It’s Lawrence’s trait of possessiveness coming out, and Adam wants to goad him further, but knows he shouldn’t. An alpha wouldn’t.

* * *

They fall in line to prep for the heist. It’s their final two weeks of work before pay day, and they have a deadline to meet. They’re stepping it up this round and targeting a casino on the Las Venturas strip. They’re growing out of the small nook they dug themselves into and make their name known.

Las Venturas is taking them out of the greater Los Santos area. It’s their first time hitting a place like this, so if it’s successful, it opens up new avenues for them. If it’s not, then it’s back to the drawing board.

They don’t have the numbers or the means to take the casino on in full force, so they’re hitting the armoured trucks that are carrying the funds out. It’s the day after a big fight night, so they know it’ll be carrying more money than normal. They hit it. They get the money. They go home. It shouldn’t be this hard for them to pull off. They’re technically old hats at this. Criminals of their standing don’t usually live long, so this’ll be a major hit if they pull it off.

Adam will be on the roof tops. He’s going to be the scout, on the rooftops, making sure the way is clear for them, looking for alternative routes in case their first is blocked off. It keeps him away from the action, but he has to stay alert. He’s got his equipment. He’s got his radio, his scanner, his maps. The casino is only a few blocks away, lighting up the sky with its glitz and glam. It’s a nice night for this, and Adam has a good feeling about this.

It’s a waiting game for the most part. He’s expected to sit up here until they have the money. He feels too tense, too shaken up when things start going down. He has to keep track of everything, keep everyone updated on where the truck is, where they need to be and how to get there. He feels scattered, like this is all too much for him to handle on his own, but he needs to do it because Bruce trusts him to be here. Trusts his judgement.

“Truck’s turning on Belmont. One way street. You can get to it by turning left on Fifth Ave.”

_“Roger Roger, Dodger.”_

James, Lawrence, and Bruce are hitting it as three. Matt and Elyse are the support. It should be enough. Blow the doors the truck, jump in, get the money, and get out.

They box the truck in on the road. There’s not much traffic where they are as trucks like these usually keep a mix of busy and pedestrian streets for less room and maneuverability for crews like them to come in and mess up their day. But they’re not like all crews. They know what they’re doing.

Elyse and Matt in the front. The boys in the back. The SUV they’re driving gives them enough space for James to jump up through the modified sun roof and toss the explosive charges onto the doors. The doors blow open, and it’s then that the truck driver appears to catch onto what’s happening, tries to swerve out of the way, but can’t with Matt and Elyse in the front. Adam’s able to keep track of this on their body cams, trying to keep up with the progress and make sure their path is clear.

James takes out the guards in the back. A one-two shot before he’s readying himself, setting his stance, and jumping from one vehicle to the next. It’s a simple toss of the bags to Lawrence as the crews try to keep the truck driver steady. In the midst of this, Adam picks up on the call that the police are on their way.

“Three cruisers in the area, out by three minutes,” he says, picking up on more as the situation unfolds. “You guys need to hurry.”

 _“Almost there,”_  Bruce says, and Adam just has to trust that he’ll get them out of there in time.

The bags are loaded. The cruisers have arrived onto the scene and now it’s time to move.

“Two coming down Johnson. Turn left onto Fourth.”

It’s a rush of directions, but he’s guiding them away. He’s making sure they stay away from the cruisers and get out of the streets, lose the tails so they can come get him and get onto the highway.

“They’re forming a blockade on Coldwater. Go further and turn right on Longwood and gun it. Split up from there and you should be able to split their attentions and get away.”

It’s dusk now. Harder to see in than if they pulled this right at night. Once he starts getting the confirmations that the cruisers have lost them, that they’re able to cut into the quieter side streets and make their way back to him.

 _“We’re on our way back,”_  Jams says.  _“Get your ass on the ground.”_

“Sure thing, Willems.”

He packs up his gear and makes his way to the stairs, takes the elevator down from the fourteenth floor and gets to the alley where they’re supposed to pick him up. Just as they’ve pulled up, a cruiser ends up on the other end of the alley. It blocks them in. The cop gets out, gun raised, and Adam hesitates only for a split second before Lawrence is shouting at him to  _get in the fucking car, Kovic!_  and the cop fires their gun and Adam’s not quick enough and—

_Pow!_

He takes one to the shoulder, falls back with the force of it. Lawrence jumps out and supports him, hauls him into the SUV before Bruce peels out the other end and starts driving again.

“Where’s he hit?” Bruce asks.

Adam’s out on the back seat with Lawrence crouched next to him. His entire right arm is throbbing. It’s spreading up along his collarbone and down to his ribs. Lawrence is prodding at him, the situation and the adrenaline leaving him uncaring and rushed. Adam gives a shout when he pushes on his arm.

“Situation, Lawrence, please!”

The tense situation in the SUV isn’t helping Adam at all. He feels like he needs to reassure everyone. Let them know that he’s okay, they’re all okay. Needs to play the mediator. That’s the omega in him trying to comfort everyone. But he can’t, not when he’s in so much pain and doesn’t know what’s going to happen.

“Just a fucking second, Bruce. God.” Lawrence takes a look at him, looks at Adam’s blood-soaked shirt and sees the damage done. They can’t turn on any lights inside the interior—would draw too much attention. “Didn’t go through,” Lawrence says. “Broken collarbone maybe, judging from how far it struck in.”

“We need to make a stop at Omar’s then,” James says.

“We’ll get there,” is all Bruce says.

“Hey, Adam,” Lawrence says. “You with me?”

He’s hardly there, feels like his heartbeat is working its way up his throat. He wants to curl up somewhere small, protect himself, but fuck if he doesn’t feel like he’s dying.

He closes his eyes. Wakes up and the car is quieter. There’s a light on him from a phone.

“You need to bind it tighter,” he hears James say, and then there’s pressure on his shoulder and he shouts. “ _Hey._  Easy with him.”

“Gotta stop the bleeding, James.” Lawrence is still there, trying to staunch the bleeding as best he can, but he’s  _rough_. They’re both rough. They don’t understand that this doesn’t work for Adam. They need to be gentler. They need to speak softer. He needs a different form of care because he’s an omega and they’re treating him like an alpha and he feels so overwhelmed and he can’t stop himself until he’s drifting off again when Lawrence pulls back and then—

 _“What’s that sound?”_  James asks.

_“Is he … purring?”_

* * *

He opens his eyes. He’s somewhere new. In the back room of Omar’s operating theatre, he thinks. He’s on his back, IV taped down onto his wrist. He moves his head, sees Elyse sat next to the bed he’s stretched out on.

“’Lyse?” he says quietly.

She turns her head to face him. “Hey, Adam. How you feeling?”

“Wha’s goin’ on?”

“Bruce and the others are talking to Omar. Then you’re going in for surgery and getting your arm fixed.”

He hears voices in the other room.

 _“He’s an omega. He needs a different form of care that I don’t know if you guys are capable of giving.”_  That’s Omar. Always has everyone’s best interests in mind. Perfectly beta in everything he does.

 _“We’ll handle it,”_  is James’s stiff reply, probably still too worked up to rein in his alpha tendencies.

Adam keeps looking at Elyse—sees her smile at him before letting her gaze turn to the side.

_Oh no._

He’s fucked up, hasn’t he? They … they know now. They know what he is.

 _“I don’t think you know what that means,”_  Omar says.

 _“And what do you mean by that?”_  Bruce asks.

_“I can see the way he acts around James and Lawrence. You guys know he’s imprinted on you, right?”_

Silence and Adam can feel his chest tighten.

_“How do you—”_

_“Because I do. I can get the bullet out, but you guys need to get him back home and take care of him. Be there for him. Got it?”_

They must say something satisfactory for Omar, because then he’s back at Adam’s side. “You’re just going to have take a deep breath and we’ll get you home, okay?” Nothing but calm assurance from him as he’s injecting Adam’s IV with anesthetic and forcing him to sleep.

* * *

Omegas need tender care. They need constant assurance that someone is there for them, because in the deepest recesses of their pain, it can feel like they’re going to die and they’re going to die scared and alone. That’s why Omar was so adamant that James and Lawrence understand what Adam needed. He’s not like an alpha where he can just go off and lick his wounds in peace. He needs the both of them.

He’s imprinted on them. Adam should’ve realized he’d gotten to close to them when separating from them became a chore. When he felt their absence physically. When in his lowest moments, he craved them, the both of them, surrounding him with their size, their scents, their whole  _beings._

It must’ve happened not long ago. Imprinting is easy. It’s between only omegas and alphas. When an alpha has proven themselves to be dependable, when they have the omegas’ best interests at heart and the omega feels connected to them, then they’ve imprinted and will stay as such and see the alphas as a  _mate_ until otherwise.

The surgery is successful, but his arm is bound against his chest to take the pressure of his shattered collarbone and fractured shoulder blade. He’s off for six weeks and even then no one will let him near anything until he’s fully healed. As soon as he’s slept off the anaesthesia, Omar is sending him home and James and Lawrence will be taking them there. Adam’s still too buzzed to fully realize the change in his life now.

He sleeps on the ride over to his apartment, pressed comfortably against James as Lawrence drives. Nothing is said between them, but Adam can tell there’s a shift in the way James is holding him. Softer, gentler, like he might break. But Adam’s too tired to care, has his face pressed upon James’s shirt, trying to breathe him deep.

He’s led upstairs to his apartment and he staggers a bit as he heads down the hall to his bedroom. His nest is still there, looks inviting. He struggles to lie down on it in the way he wants to. Can’t curl up with his arm bound as it is in a stiff cast across his chest.

“Easy now.” James’s voice cuts in through the panic and speaks to Adam deeply.  _Calm yourself. You’re okay._

He gets Adam comfortable on the bed, makes sure the blankets and pillows are piled up around him. Then he stands off to the side, and Adam knows this isn’t right. This doesn’t feel right. He turns his head. “James.” He’s looking for him. Where did he go? His breath hitches in his chest and he tries to sit up, and then James steps forward.

“Hey. Hey, take it easy. I don’t think Omar would appreciate that you ripped your stitches.”

Adam’s guided back down, but with his good hand, he grabs onto James’s shirt and pulls him down, can’t let him go. James seems to pick up on it and gets into the bed with him, curls up on the edge of the nest so he doesn’t hurt Adam, but close enough that Adam can feel his body heat, feel how the bed dips with his weight. It has to be good enough for now because this is realistically as close as James can be to him for now.

“That better?” James asks, and Adam nods.

“Where’s Lawrence?”

“Grabbing some food and picking some stuff up. He’ll be back soon. Just sleep.”

So Adam does.

* * *

_“How’s he doing?”_

_“Just sleepin’ right now. Keeps purring though.”_

_“Yeah, Omar says he’d do it ‘cause he’s in pain. Trying to calm himself.”_

_“Why do you think he didn’t tell us? Even Bruce didn’t know. No one knew.”_

_“Just let him sleep.”_

_“C’mere. I think he’d appreciate it if you were here as well.”_

The bed shifts and then there’s a hand on his hip, hot and wide, searing into his skin comfortably.

_“See? He knows you’re here.”_

* * *

Sleeping is all part of the healing process. Adam sleeps  _a lot_. But he’s never alone. One of them is always there for him, and when he wakes up for short bursts to get up and stretch his legs, take a piss, eat and drink something if he can stomach it, they’re there to help him back down into his nest. Sometimes when he’s awake but not willing to move, he’ll look at who’s ever closest to him and blink at them, just looks at them.

James will press their foreheads together. Adam enjoys that, likes it when he’s able to breathe James in and exist in his space for a moment. And he’ll speak so quietly to Adam, voice a calm reassurance.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” he asks when Adam’s been awake for longer than usual.

They’re close enough where Adam can rub their noses together, just gently. “Was easier to be an alpha,” he says. “Everyone thought so anyway. Didn’t matter.”

His eyes close gently when James drags his fingers across his cheekbone. “Of course it matters,” James says. “We’d love you anyway.”

Adam only hums, already slipping far away.

* * *

Lawrence always keeps him bundled up, makes sure he’s comfortable on the bed. Adam has Lawrence’s sweater balled up against his chest. It’s soft and thick. Adam knows this sweater. It’s Lawrence’s leisure sweater. The one he wears on the quiet days at the base, or early in the morning after waking up. Having it here soothes him.

He can’t seem to keep his hands off of Adam, and Adam loves it, basks in the attention and affection that Lawrence lovingly showers upon him.

“What do you think, champ?” he says. “Want to get up and stretch your legs? Eat something in the other room?”

Adam makes a soft sound, and Lawrence takes that as a ‘yes.’ He’s helped to sit up and then get to his feet. He takes the sweater with him, follows Lawrence blindly to the main room. The shower is running in the bathroom, explains James’s absence. He continues to follow Lawrence into the kitchen, and as he tends to something on the stove, Adam comes up behind him and leans his chin on his shoulder, tries to be as close as he can.

“Aren’t you all touchy feely?” Lawrence says. Adam has no words for him. Words aren’t needed.

With the sweater in his lap, Adam eats what Lawrence serves him. He could’ve made something easy, like a basic rice dish, something he wouldn’t need both hands for. But Lawrence insisted on feeding him by hand, and Adam doesn’t mind. Not when Lawrence praises him for eating so well, carding his hand through his hair every so often.

James joins them soon after. “Ah. There you are.” He bends over Adam, smelling like his own body wash which Adam approves of.

“He’s feeling quiet today,” Lawrence says as James hovers over him, steals a quick bite from his plate.

“That’s okay,” James says. “As long as he gets up and stretches, that’s fine with me.”

* * *

Adam’s nights are spent with the two of them in his bed. It’s a bit too small for the three of them, but they make it work, break down the walls of the nest a bit so they can press in closer.

The unspoken change in their relationship is becoming more tangible and more pressing now. It needs to be discussed, but Adam feels like if he opens his mouth, it’ll ruin the illusion they’ve build up around themselves, and he can’t lose them. Not like this. Their relationship was easier when they were just three alphas. But now they’re a bonded pair of alphas and an omega. That’s a huge change.

“Did you think we wouldn’t care?” Lawrence asks.

They’re still trying to figure out why Adam wouldn’t say he’s an omega, and he owes them that explanation at least.

“We don’t,” James says. “We still love you. It’s not like Bruce is going to kick you out of the crew or think less of you if that helps.”

That’s a discussion for another day, but that’s not what Adam’s worried about.

“People don’t like omegas like me,” he says flatly.

“What do you mean?” He feels Lawrence shift, press in closer, and Adam tilts his head slightly towards him—even if he can’t look at him.

“I’m not … not built like other omegas. Not small enough or, or dainty enough.”

“That doesn’t matter,” James tells him.

“It matters to some people.”

They go quiet, let this news settle in.

“We don’t care if you’re not small,” Lawrence says. “Or if you like to posture like an alpha. We just want you to be happy.”

“You can be whatever you want, baby,” James says. “You don’t have to worry about this.”

“It’s different now,” Adam says. “I need different things. It’s going to change things between us.”

“It’s not going to change how much we love you,” Lawrence says. “And we’ll take care of you, it’s okay.”

He wants to believe it. He really does, but falling out of habits is hard.

But what he doesn’t doubt about them is their love for him, and for now that’ll get him through the rest of it.

* * *

Two weeks after he’s hit, Lawrence and James coax him out of the apartment to head down to Bruce and Matt’s house for some friendly dinner. After a lot of help, they’ve got him dressed in one of James’s shirts with Lawrence’s sweater to burrow into in the back seat of the car. He’s still tired, still sleeps a lot with the pain medication coursing through him.

He’s still worried about the crew and what they think of him. What Elyse thinks of him really. This changes things between him and James now. A bonded pair. Alpha and omega. And he doesn’t want to feel like he’s intruding on their marriage despite how open their relationship is.

He’s welcomed in warmly by the crew, hugged lightly from one side and kissed on the check by Bruce, receives a firm grip to the back of the neck by Matt so they can lean their heads together.

“Off to the couch with you,” Bruce says. “We can handle dinner.”

“Yes,  _dad_.”

It’s nice to hear that he has his sass back as he’s taken out of the kitchen and to the adjoining living room. He gets into the recliner, burrows in deep with Lawrence’s sweater draped over him. The voices of the others float over to him and provide him with a comforting white noise. It’s then that he’s joined by someone else who perches themselves on the arm of the recliner, feet on his thigh. He looks up to see Elyse.

“Hi, Elyse,” he says.

She smiles at him. “Hi, Adam. Feeling better?”

He tries to lift his arm, but can’t because of how it’s bound, so he just wiggles his fingers. “As well as can be.”

She ruffles his hair a bit, makes him whine and pull back. She laughs a little. “You’re cute as an omega,” she says. “And you’re welcome at our house any time you want, okay? You’re family.” She kisses the top of his head, and Adam feels himself settle at the admission.

“Thank you.”

“Ain’t nothing.”

They eat around a dinner table, Adam feeling like he fits, like nothing’s changed other than the fact he doesn’t have this heavy weight hanging off of him.

He takes another round of medication during dinner, and as they’re cleaning up, Matt says he can lie out on his bed for a while.

“Thanks, Peake.”

He lays out on his back, Lawrence’s sweater laying half on his face so he can just breathe it all in. He comes back to fingers in his hair and soft voices.

“We need to take you home,” James says. “Come on.”

He goes to stand by James’s help, a little ashamed that he wasn’t around the others longer.

“When you’re better,” Bruce says. “For now just take care of yourself.”

Before the three of them get into the car, Adam turns to James and says, “If you want to go home tonight, that’s fine. I’ve got Lawrence and, and I feel a bit more myself now.”

James straightens, looks him square in the eye. “You sure?” He cups his chin tenderly.

“Of course.”

“Yeah, James, I’m  _more_  than enough alpha for Adam here,” Lawrence says from the other side of the car.

“Okay,” James says, stepping in to kiss Adam’s cheek. “What if I bring Elyse by tomorrow?”

“That’s fine. Just give us a heads up so we can clean up a bit.”

“Sure thing.”

Omegas aren’t desperate. They aren’t needy all of the time, and Adam doesn’t want to be seen that way. And he’s not alone. He has Lawrence and Lawrence can be more than enough. And Adam needs to maintain a sense of independence. He’s still hurt, yes, but he’s not that hurt.

He goes home with Lawrence that night, gives James a bit of a break to return home with Elyse. Lawrence gives him every spare moment of his time, and Adam soaks it up naturally.

“You really don’t mind I’m an omega?” Adam asks when they’re on the couch together, scrolling through Netflix to see what’s available.

“Of course not,” Lawrence says, tightens his hold across his stomach, fingers occasionally pulling up the hem of his shirt to skim across his stomach.

“It’s not always easy with me. You know that.”

Lawrence’s lips on the shell of his ear, kissing along his hairline. “I don’t expect it to be. I just want to be here with you.”

Adam rests his head back against Lawrence’s chest and becomes distracted by the colours on the TV. It’ll never be perfect but then again, nothing ever is. But they make it work. They love Adam, they love him for who he is, and nothing has changed about that.

His shoulder heals in time. He doesn’t need them to watch over him every waking moment. But it’s nice to come home and have Lawrence already waiting for him. It’s nice to wake up and realize James had snuck in some time during the night and joined them on the bed.

His heats are more bearable, comfortable now that he has the two of them—pressing cool clothes against his skin, slipping him small pieces of fruit between his lips to keep him going for those three days, and fucking him through the surges of arousal to keep him satiated.

And if word should get out, if rivals discover that Kovic’s an omega, posing as an alpha and call him out on this while they’re on the job, they’re staring down not one but two guns from his alphas and a cocky reply from Adam, “Yeah? And what of it?”

Needless to say, little changes in Adam’s life since he was shot. Only that his life feels more complete than before, now full of the love and assurance of his alphas at his sides.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm staranon95 on tumblr
> 
> come yell at me


End file.
